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by diminishedmercury



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Typical Vampire Violence, archon ruins everything good, non-canon, relationship building, you thought i'd leave this alone but no
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-14 10:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29044569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diminishedmercury/pseuds/diminishedmercury
Summary: The first time that Ailill meets Layla Verix, he is not impressed by her flippant attitude. She teases him for not knowing what she thinks to be simple concepts, but who in their right mind thought that flames that burned without flames was simple? Seriously, he didn’t understand what were these “lightbulbs” were powered by, but someday he’d get his hands on one and figure out what kind of black magic was at play here— but that was beside the point! She laughed at him, but there was no humor that met her eyes. It was fake. There was no joy there, no real emotion behind the woman’s eyes.It didn’t scare him.OR:3 times that Ailill sees Verix + 1 time he doesn't.
Relationships: Ailill Vermillion (Original Male Character)/Layla Verix (Original Female Character)
Kudos: 1





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**I.**

The first time that Ailill meets Layla Verix, he is not impressed by her flippant attitude. She teases him for not knowing what  _ she  _ thinks to be simple concepts, but  _ who  _ in their right mind thought that flames that burned without flames was  _ simple _ ? Seriously, he didn’t understand what were these “lightbulbs” were powered by, but someday he’d get his hands on one and figure out what kind of black magic was at play here— but that was beside the point! She laughed at him, but there was no humor that met her eyes. It was fake. There was no joy there, no real emotion behind the woman’s eyes. 

It didn’t scare him. He’s met people like Verix; he’s even met people  _ worse  _ than Verix. It was just… well, it was always a little bit unnerving to see that emptiness in a living, breathing person. He doesn’t really have responses to give her when she asks questions. She doesn’t really want them, he can tell, and he can’t figure out what it is that she wants. Companionship? Maybe, but he’s seen lust before, even in people as empty as this, and this didn’t smell like lust. There’s some sour note to her emotions, something that stings his nose when he sniffs the air around them, and he can’t quite place a finger on  _ what  _ it is.

“Vampire?” He asks, not really thinking. She smells like the ones in Ravica, but this is not Ravica. America, he thinks she called this place, but fuck if he actually cared enough to know.

“Yes,” She answers simply with a polite smile. But that sour smell is back, stronger than before, and it hits him like a brick wall.  _ Loneliness _ . She was  _ lonely _ . She’d done a fair job at hiding it until now. He grins, wildly, and leans forward in the little booth they’re sat in like he’s about to whisper a damning secret.

“Does that mean ya got the cute little fangs too?” He laughs outright at the expression on her face.

“I— what?”

“Do ya got the cute fangs?” He asks again, very serious about his inquiry.

“In all my years, I have  _ never  _ heard someone call them  _ cute _ .” Ah. So that did mean she had the cute fangs. He nods sagely with his eyes closed, reaching up to stroke his chin.

“Just means ya never met anyone worth knowin’.” There’s that sour note again, but it’s mixed with something sweeter, dulled and almost unnoticeable. Endearment, maybe. He doesn’t know and doesn’t care to think about it too much.

“I suppose I haven’t,” She agrees with a thoughtful hum, setting down her cup of… coffee, he thinks she called it. “You’re a very strange man, Ailill.”

“Not so normal yourself, Verix.” He shoots back instantly, but there’s no bite to his words. It was spoken as if it were just an observation, and to him, it was.

She leaves without much of a goodbye and he expects this to be his last encounter with the strange woman known as Layla Verix. He doesn’t hear Fate laughing at his naivety.

* * *

**II.**

The next time that he meets Verix, he finds her huddled in on herself in a dark alley, panting softly. He can smell the hunger wafting off of her in waves even from where he stands and he’s careful not to make too sudden of a movement as he steps closer. “Heya, Verix,” it’s mostly said as a way to alert her to his presence. He knows better than to sneak up on a hungry vampire (even if he intends to feed them).

“ _ Leave _ .” She hisses instantly, turning her eyes up enough to glare at him. He whistles at the look on her face— damn, she must have really been starving herself.

“Why?” He asks, tilting his head to the side. He’s not dumb. He knows why. But he doesn’t care.

“Are you an idiot?” She grinds out through clenched teeth.

“Yea,” He laughs. “But I’m the idiot about to feed ya.” There’s a note of confusion that mixes with the smell of hunger and it makes him wrinkle his nose. “Ya won’t kill me, right?” He can tell she can’t really pay attention to his words, but he just needs that much confirmation as he materializes something sharp enough to break his skin.

“I-I suppose not,” She manages to say and that’s all he needs to plop himself down against the wall and run the cool blade across his forearm. Blood spills and she is on the wound instantly, tongue and lips sucking up the metallic substance like it’s nectar.  _ It very well might be if she’s this hungry _ , he thinks to himself.

He makes himself comfortable on the stone ground, leaning his head back against the wall of the wooden building behind him with a soft hum. It’s a good feeling, really. There’s the scent of relief flooding his senses and he relaxes further into the hold she has on his arm as she drinks, letting her scent wash over him in comforting waves. He doesn’t really know how long he sits there and lets her drink, absentmindedly drawing runes into his thigh when he needs to so he can make up for the blood loss with each gulp. It’s funny that he’d be using healing magic for something like this, but Ailill has never been one to follow a conventional path in life.

She finally lets go when he’s dizzy with desire (or was that just blood loss?) and thoroughly satisfied himself, cracking open one green eye to watch her wipe away his blood on the back of her hand. It shouldn’t really be  _ cute _ , per se, but it reminds him vaguely of a person who’s finally been given a feast after who knows how long of fasting. “Full?” He murmurs. She nods, and he catches a sheepish look on her face.

“... What do you want?”

“Nothin’,” He barks out a laugh, shifting enough that he can draw one of those healing runes across the still bleeding wound on his arm.

“You  _ can’t  _ want nothing.” She hisses back and he smells distrust and confusion. It cuts through the fog of his good mood like a knife and he frowns.

“Why can’t I?” He settles for asking. The confusion is thick like smog now.

“Everyone wants something.”

“I don’t.” He shrugs. “Just saw ya hungry.” His wrist is stitching itself back together now and he shifts with the discomfort of the feeling. It was always his least favorite part about healing magic— shouldn’t it feel nice like a healing salve?

“But—” He lifts his hand to press a finger to her lips with a stern look.

“No buts! I don’t want anything. Feels nice anyways.”

“It feels  _ nice _ ? Are you a masochist or something?” She snorts, looking away from him with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Something like that, I guess,” He agrees easily. Pain was something he’d learned to embrace, something he’d learned to  _ enjoy _ even. If he couldn’t, his life would have just been thirty years of suffocation and brutality. He hadn’t ever liked the thought of that. “Can’t have nice things without a little pain, you know?”

“You… are a very strange man, Ailill.”

He grins. “I know.”

* * *

**III.**

“Hungry?” He asks as soon as he smells that distinct  _ loneliness  _ that clings to Verix’s scent. He’s never smelled it quite as thickly on anyone else he’s met.

“... Yes,” She mutters sheepishly. She was always like this when she asked for a meal. He never really understood it, but he wasn’t a vampire— he supposed it would be a little awkward if he had to ask someone to suck their blood. But he doesn’t comment on it, just lazily tosses aside the blankets he’d been curled up in and tilts his head enough to the side that she’ll have good access to his bruised neck. He still hadn’t bothered healing those injuries since his last encounter with Archon— broken bones were one thing, but why waste his energy on bruises?

“C’mere then. ‘M tired today.” He mumbles.

“What happened?” She asks, uncharacteristically gentle as she approaches. He’s noticed that she’s felt… softer, the past few times she’s visited. He doesn’t know what to chalk it up to. Her hands run across the splotches of yellow and purple littering his neck and chest and he leans into the touch. The sting feels good.

“Nothin’. Just a little fight is all.” Little was an extreme underestimation. He’d nearly gotten his windpipe crushed in that fight and surely would have been dead had Sera not intervened. He doesn’t really know where she’s run off to either, but he assumes she’s off with Merlin somewhere. “Don’t really have that much to spare, but I can give you a snack.” She hums thoughtfully at that, sitting down delicately on the edge of the bed. She doesn’t bend down though, simply letting her hand pet through his hair and over his ears. He leans even further into that touch.

“No,” She breathes. “I’ll wait.” He thinks he smells something like tenderness, but even that wasn’t reliable in his state. Merlin had set the bone with his magic, but his sense of smell was still off.

“Thought you were hungry?” He watches her face carefully for any sign that her normally iron-tight grip on her heart would let up. It does, just for a split second, and he’s  _ certain  _ that he smelled tenderness now. It twists something in his chest to be on the receiving end of such a person’s affection.

“I’ll wait,” She repeats, moving to stand up. Ailill doesn’t let her, grabbing her wrist and bodily tugging her up and over his own body to snuggle into her side.

“Great! Then ya have time to nap with me, right?” He grins when he hears a hitch in her breath, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Her skin feels cold against his normally too-hot body, and he breathes a sigh of contentedness.

“Just this once,” She says and he can practically hear the roll of her eyes. He snorts. He knows it won’t be once.

“Just this once,” He says, but he doesn’t really mean it.

* * *

**\+ I.**

Just this once, as it would turn out, turns into two times; turns into three; turns into six; turns into twelve; turns into thirty. He  _ likes  _ Verix, so much, but he still smells loneliness even if it’s dulled when she realizes that he’s around. He knows that he can’t take away pain that’s so deeply rooted— he knows that, logically, but that doesn’t make him try any less hard to be the cause of something  _ good  _ for Verix.

He just wishes that it didn’t have to end this way.

He just wishes that he got one  _ more  _ time.

He just wishes that he could at least say  _ I’m sorry _ .

“What a pretty kitty,” Archon coos, brushing away a strand of his red hair that’s fallen into his eyes. He’s too weak to fight back anymore, but he tries to bite at his hand as it retreats. Archon laughs and slams the back of his hand into his cheek. The sting of it is numbed by the pain of the rest of his body. “And a mean one, hm?”

“Go to hell,” He bites out.

“Gladly!” Archon laughs. He feels hands around his neck. They’re cold and delicate fingers, but he feels his bones creak in protest under their power. “I’ll meet you there.” Death had never scared him, not really, but knowing that he would die and be the cause of pain to so many he loved left him choking on his blood.

He hopes that she can hear his thoughts when he whispers  _ I’m sorry _ .


End file.
